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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337801">The Fingers Are Rebuilt</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poemsingreenink/pseuds/Poemsingreenink'>Poemsingreenink</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff and Smut, Gags, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, arts and crafts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:06:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,623</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poemsingreenink/pseuds/Poemsingreenink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy and Quynh and the rest of the immortal family tuck themselves away in a high mountain cabin.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Fingers Are Rebuilt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The living room of the newest safe house came with floor to ceiling windows. They made Nicky grumble and mutter until finally he took the truck down the mountain and came back two days later with tall panes of bulletproof glass. (He also came back with three extra handguns that Andy watched him squirrel away in different areas of the house, but she didn’t comment on those). He had to take down the curtains to install them, and at Quỳnh’s request they didn’t go back up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please tell me you’re not planning on making a dress out of these,” Nile teased, toeing the heavy green material with her slippered foot as she passed on her way to the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was cold this high in the mountains, and even with the heat on they were all in layers. Nicky loved it, Booker hated it, and Joe liked it so long as he could warm his hands in the pocket of Nicky’s hoodie.    </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is a pretty color,” Quỳnh said. She crouched down to run her hand back-and-forth over the velvet, the fabric darkening and lightening under each pass of her palm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She did that more now. Reached out to touch the world around her. Quỳnh’s hand shot up to close around Andy’s wrist, and insistently tugged her down until they were crouched next to one another. She wove their fingers together, and then pressed Andy’s palm against the stretch of green.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You had a gown in this color, Andromache,” Quỳnh said, and turned her face so her breath tickled Andy’s ear. “I used to bunch it up in my hands, push it to your hips, and then put my mouth on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heat started in Andy’s face, and quickly plummeted lower.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She kissed Quỳnh on the cheek high enough that she could feel the hard bone under the soft skin. She nuzzled her temple, gave her wrist a squeeze. All the while Quỳnh kept their hands moving in long steady rhythmic sweeps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And after you were done,” Andy said, softly. “I’d pull you into my arms and taste the both of us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quỳnh laughed and pressed herself closer. A warm solid weight at Andy’s side.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>When they were younger they’d play a game. Whoever woke first would slip away to hide among the trees, the weeds, the sand, the marshes, the rooms of whatever building with a roof they’d claimed as home, and wait. And in that waiting they would watch. Andromache had passed so many mornings flat on her belly among dew covered blades of grass, and watched Quỳnh as she stretched the stiffness from her arms, started the morning cooking fire, sharpened her knives, or smoked atop her bed roll.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually the watching ended. When the adrenaline had peaked, when the tension break was needed, when the flex of another woman’s muscles was too tempting to just admire from a distance, then it was time to strike. Time to see how close they could creep before they pounced, and wrestled one another across the grass, the mattress, the hay, or the dunes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Herds of buffalo had surrounded Andy once as she’d waited, but they’d been easily incorporated into the game. She’d ducked behind their warm flanks, and hidden her long shadow in their bulkier ones. Quỳnh had tried to mount one, probably looking for a vantage point, and Andy’d struck as the other woman’s legs kicked uselessly in the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was their very favorite game.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was proving to be the bane of Nile’s existence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” Nile panted. “How does she get that close, every time? Every. Single Time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Centuries of, excuse me, Nile, practice,” Joe said cheerfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stepped over their newest family member and flipped several of the pancakes he was tending.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you want four pancakes or five?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take five,” Quỳnh said. After releasing Nile from a headlock, she’d retreated to lean against the kitchen cabinets with Andy. “You’ll need your strength if you’re ever going to best me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That, and you could use some more meat on your bones,” Joe said, and poked Nile in the side with his foot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nile squeaked and rolled away. She was forced to stop when she hit Andy’s legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heads up, Nicky!” Joe called, and flipped one of the pancakes high into the air. It arched over the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the living room, and sailed so high that it made Booker jump from where he was perched precariously atop a ladder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nicky snatched the pancake out of the air, abandoning his job of steadying Booker in favor of eating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m trying to do something here, guys,” Booker grumbled, and went back to sorting out strips of painter’s tape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Andy rolled her eyes but put down her empty syrup-stained plate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Quit complaining, Book. I’ll help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She yelped when Quỳnh dragged her back, dipped her, and kissed her hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Time sweetened you, Andromache,” Quỳnh breathed against her lips when she broke the kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Andy closed the gap, nipped at Quỳnh’s lip and sucked at her tongue as though she were trying to swallow the words, and she was filled with a rush of so much love she was sure Quỳnh could taste it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, that’s just the syrup you licked off her back teeth,” Nile said dryly.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>As a result of a conversation Andy was 100% sure she was too drunk to have been a part of, they started cross-stitching. Quỳnh because she found the bright colors and varying textures soothing. Booker because it wasn’t drinking. Nile because it was art, and Andy because Nile bought her a pattern that read </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eat Pussy!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll frame that when you’re done,” Nicky said. He’d never been good with a needle, but was keeping himself busy by methodically winding the bundles of embroidery floss around the small plastic holders, and then organizing them by color.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will not,” Andy said. “I’m going to sew it onto the back of a jean jacket when I’m done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re my hero,” Nile said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought I was your hero!” Joe said, scandalized.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He appeared in the doorway of Nile’s room, clothes covered in a kaleidoscope of paint colors; drops of purple scattered across his cheeks like freckles, patches of gold on his knees, and blues streaked up and down his arms like bleeding cuts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can both be my hero,” Nile said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t accept that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> hero?” Nicky asked, and stretched his hand out until Joe crossed the room to take it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not already!? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nicolò</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Booker swore as his length of orange thread became tangled again.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>As soon as the smell of fresh paint disappeared, every one of them dragged their mattresses into the living room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nicky voiced half-hearted protests when Andy pushed hers and Quỳnh’s against the windows (bulletproof or not, there should be some barrier between the world and his family), and didn’t stop until Quỳnh took his face in her hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I trust you to keep me safe, Nicolò.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d meant it to be kind, but as he gathered Quỳnh into his arms Andy saw a look of absolute devastation slide across his face. When he set his and Joe’s sleeping space up so that he’d be facing Quỳnh, Andy pointedly did not comment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Andy also didn’t sleep. Insomnia was hard to break even when your long-lost lover miraculously returned from the Hell you’d left her to rot in, and she’d somehow forgiven you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It helped that Quỳnh shared the condition.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like that I can’t see water from here,” Quỳnh said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Andy had repurposed the green velvet curtain into a blanket, and she adjusted it around her shoulders as she stared out the windows, taking in the mountains they were nestled in and the glittering snow in the cold dark. She tilted her head to rub her cheek across the velvet, and if that meant she got to gently press her temple to Quỳnh’s, well, who was she to complain?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s why I picked this place,” Andy said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Above them, the stars danced and burned. The full moon filled the room with light, but Andy knew it wasn’t enough for Quỳnh, which was why the kitchen light still glowed yellow and welcoming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An arm circled her waist, and she felt a familiar nose nudge her arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that Nile or Booker snoring?” Quỳnh asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s both of them,” Andy said. “Do you like Joe’s gift?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quỳnh tilted her head back, and back, and back until she flopped onto the carpet with her arms spread wide like she was making a snow angel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. It glows so beautifully.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Andy abandoned the curtain (maybe one of them </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> make a dress out of it? Or at least a robe), and joined Quỳnh on the ground, the two of them lying shoulder-to-shoulder as they examined Joe’s latest work. Andy could feel Quỳnh soft hair between her shoulder blades, stretched out like a raven’s wing beneath them both.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joe’d used spray paint to create the mural above their heads, dark blues and blacks made even deeper thanks to the golds and greens that circled them in hazy halos. Glow-in-the-dark paint for the scatterings of stars that looked as delicate and light as milk foam, and the stretch of cloudy silver that ran through the center like a bridge. The idea of a mural had been Joe’s, but that it should feature the Milky Way had been Andy’s.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ngân Hà,” </span>
  <span>Quỳnh said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you still like the Milky Way,” Andy said. The words came out strained, and her eyes burned hot until she blinked the tears away. “I wasn’t sure if that had changed. If you don’t, I promise to paint over it tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quỳnh snorted. “Andromache, there’s nothing about the sky I don’t love now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d never been shy about sex. Never felt ashamed that others might hear them, but attitudes had changed since it was only four of them around a fire, and Quỳnh had missed a great deal of the last two centuries. So Andy was surprised when Quỳnh ripped a strip off the green velvet curtains and gagged herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The American seems like the bashful type,” was all she’d said before pulling it between her teeth and knotting it behind her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They fucked against the windows with Andy pressed against Quỳnh’s back, an arm wrapped securely around her waist. Quỳnh’s hands pressed against the glass, and every time they shifted she left behind ghostly outlines of her fingerprints. The winter chill made Andy’s toes go numb with cold, but the growing heat trapped between them had sweat beading across her upper lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tucked her free hand under Quỳnh’s shirt where it rotated around the soft curvature of her stomach like a small moon. Andy scraped her teeth across Quỳnh’s neck and sucked just under her jaw, leaving bruises that wilted as soon as they’d blossomed. She kissed the shell of her ear, the strip of velvet that cut across her cheek, then rubbed her face along it like a cat, all the while whispering, “Quỳnh, Quỳnh, Quỳnh, Quỳnh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abandoning her soft stomach, Andy dipped her hand under the waistband of Quỳnh’s sleep shorts but stayed outside her underwear. She’d seen Quỳnh wiggle into them this morning, and knew they were covered in a pattern of small black birds. She placed her middle finger feather light atop Quỳnh’s clit, tapped it thoughtfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think one of those little birds is perched right here?” she asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quỳnh whimpered and bucked her hips. Andy let her hand slide lower until she was cupping Quỳnh’s sex and warming it with the heat of her palm. She lapped up a drop of sweat as it slid down Quỳnh’s temple, dragging her fingers up the fabric, pausing to gently press and circle her fingers over Quỳnh’s clit until she was panting and squirming in Andy’s arms. Looking for pressure and friction Andy wasn’t providing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Andy could feel herself growing wet as Quỳnh soaked through the fabric of her underwear. It left Andy’s fingers damp, and as she pulled her fingers back up Andy pressed hard and rubbed against the slick heat with single-minded intention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Quỳnh came it was with a series of harsh pants, and she pressed herself against Andy’s breasts as her body went tense and hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have you,” Andy murmured. “I have you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Andy pressed her nose into Quỳnh’s collarbone, trailing kisses across her skin. She paused to playfully take the strap of her tank-top into her mouth, pulling it away before releasing it to snap against the skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so good for me,” Andy said. “So good. No one has ever been this good for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sank to her knees, taking Quỳnh with her, settling her on her lap. She had to jerk her head out of the way when Quỳnh’s hands unexpectedly shot up, scrambling to pick apart the knot keeping the gag secure.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the strip of velvet was back in Quỳnh’s hand, she twisted and turned until she was bracketing Andy’s hips with her thighs and they were sitting face-to-face. She ran her hand down Andy’s cheek, kissed her softly, and then shoved the gag between Andy’s lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need it more than I do,” she said fondly. “You always did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was wet with Quỳnh’s spit, and Andy moaned around it, her hands fluttering uselessly at Quỳnh’s hips as other woman pulled the fabric tight enough to dig into Andy’s skull.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quỳnh shoved both her hands under Andy’s tank-top, fingers skirting the curves of her torso and taking full handfuls of Andy’s breasts when she reached them. She pinched the nipples, then wiggled her head under the shirt to kiss the soft skin of Andy’s belly. When she reemerged, her hair was a mess, but her eyes met Andy’s and for a moment Andy was lost. Staring so hard into Quỳnh’s dark eyes that she was certain she witnessed galaxies burst to life in the deep gaze of her beloved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then Quỳnh’s hand went south, and the moment was gone as Andy let her head fall back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was so close already that it only took a moment, a few presses and twists of Quỳnh’s fingers before she peaked. The beating of her heart seemed to echo the rhythmic throbbing, and she buried her face in Quỳnh’s shoulder with a gasp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So good for me,” Andy tried to say again, but the gag muffled the words. She tried to push the fabric out of her mouth with her tongue, but it was pulled too tight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Andromache,” Quỳnh said, her arms encircling her. “My Andromache.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>They had to cut the gag off. Like many things, Quỳnh’s skill with knots hadn’t been stolen away by the sea, and after she’d tossed the soiled fabric away she’d given the green curtain a long, thoughtful look. Perhaps it wouldn’t be turned into a dress or a robe, but Andy suspected they’d still put it to good use.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They settled on the mattress with their feet pressing against the chilled windowpanes, and pulled a heavy quilt over them. There was sweat drying between Andy’s breasts, slick cooling between her thighs, and her fingers smelled earthy and damp, but she was too tired to clean up. They’d be uncomfortable in the morning, but a hot shower and hotter coffee cured most morning ills.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quỳnh curled up close with her head resting on Andy’s chest, and as Andy wrapped her arms around her she had no doubts that she’d wake up with some of Quỳnh’s hair in her mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Outside the stars burned with a bright, aching fury, and above them Joe’s galaxy glowed reassuring and soft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They slept.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>-So many thanks to iwritesometimes who betaed this for me, and answered my many flailing questions about how this should be tagged/titled.  </p>
<p>-Title lifted from the poem "The Touch" by Anne Sexton.</p>
<p>-....everyone is a big happy family again because something, something reasons.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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